Like Any Other
by Mauzzsi
Summary: G1. Cyclonus/Galvatron, Rodimus/Blurr. The wars drag onwards and in the silence of space, the only thing that both Autobot and Decepticon have is each other.
1. Like Any Other

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything associated with it.

**Title**: Like any other  
**Rating**: T  
**Universe**: G1  
**Pairing**: Cyclonus/Galvatron  
**Word Count**: 1,837

Did this in about 30 minutes, just felt like writing it. Sorry if it's not perfect, but I did spell check...so...totally.

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Cyclonus found certain things about Galvatron simply fascinating. He did not like this analytical attitude he possessed, almost making it seem like he was above his beloved leader, but he could not help himself. His insanity, his feral screams of rage, all of them could vanish in an instant, then reappear just as fast. It was amazing, if not partially horrifying. One could never predict the quick swings in Galvatron's mood, the only, small, precursor of warning that something bad was about to happen, would be the small glow of his neural processor, where the Alya from Torkulon had once tried to pry too deeply into. Cyclonus had gotten a good set of dents in his armor after Galvatron was done, but he deserved it well enough, seeing as Galvatron had almost been lobotomized by that planet.

But as amazing as this was to the machine inside Cyclonus, the spark within him would gladly throw it all away if it would stop the howls of pain that Galvatron would burst into when the neural processor would suddenly cackle and spark. Unicron had tortured him too often and too harshly, and then the plasma bath had only made it worse. The fits would happen in Galvatron's recharge, which was sparse if none between autobot raids. Cyclonus fathomed that Galvatron actually veered away from recharge, just to avoid the bouts of pain, but from what Cyclonus could tell, it only made it worse.

Cyclonus typed quickly on the computer panel, mapping new battle plans that he knew Galvatron would ignore. He had to do something to pass the time. Chaar was quiet, deadly quiet, it almost made Cyclonus want to order the other Decepticons to talk, but there were never any close enough to order. He resided in the east wing of the main base complex on Chaar, the only other mech that shared that wing was Galvatron himself. Scourge and his sweeps lofted up in the northern wing, while the other decepticon forces were dispersed within the much larger west and southern wings, and some on the outer walls of the base complex. No one would come within an Ick-Yak's leap of the east wing, terrified that even when their leader was in recharge, he'd come blasting away at them. They were ignorant of his condition, Galvatron hid his pain well from his troops, that much remained in him.

The jet transformer finished his battle plans and sighed. His internal computer blinked the time in his optics, and he decided that he could perhaps sneak a few cycles of recharging in before Galvatron would awake and demand his presence. He shut the computer panel down and stretched his arm servos, several creaks made him wince, so much for children of Unicron, even their own servos hated them.

He walked down the long hallway, looking at the multiple doors that had empty recharge berths behind them. The east wing could host an entire battalion, but like cowards the other decepticons fled to the furthest two wings, and seemed very content on staying there. It had taken the constructions an entire Meta-cycle to complete the entire base, with the help of the other decepticons included, Cyclonus saw it as a waste of such good space, as well as a personal insult to Galvatron himself.

Cyclonus' room was directly beside Galvatron's, and while his spark felt comforted knowing how close to his leader he was, he could hear every moment of pain his leader suffered. Numerous times he had gone over to ask if Galvatron was functioning properly, and had the scars to prove it. Galvatron personally ordered him to never enter his room, and Cyclonus was obligated to obey. Not only did his loyalty make him stay in his own berth, but the built in instincts from Unicron made it very hard to disobey.

He approached Galvatron's door silently, it was locked as always, but he pressed one elongated head audio to the door and listened. Many of the decepticons found his audio structures comical, how they jutted from his head into two long points. Rumble and Frenzy had recalled an earth organism called a 'rabbit' that reminded them of Cyclonus, and had gotten a good laugh out of it until Soundwave caught the murder in Cyclonus' eyes and quickly silenced his cassettes. But for their odd appearance, they more than made up for it in usefulness. He could hear almost everything, from the machinery in the walls to his own servos moving, to a conversation almost across the base, and it was all carefully controlled and organized in his processor. He could also block sounds out, and he felt more than guilty for blocking Galvatron's vocal pattern from more than one of his recharge cycles so he wouldn't have to hear the wails of pain.

Cyclonus heard nothing except the grating sound of Galvatron's intake vents siphoning air in and out slowly, and his leader's dispersed servo movements as he twitched every now and then. Cyclonus hoped to Primus that it would stay that way the entire night, it was a rare occurrence, but it did happen. His vents sighed a long rush of warm air and he pressed the access code into his own room, and entered. It was as empty as the day he had arrived to it, and he liked it that way. Besides, Unicron be damned if Cyclonus actually owned something other than a couple of data pads and his energon rations that were in a wall storage compartment.

Cyclonus got on to his berth and offlined his optics before beginning to shut most of his systems down, getting ready for recharge. Just as he was about to slip in, a grunt of pain made his left audio twitch. He ignored it, but the next grunt escalated into a scream of pain. Slag, and was almost a good night. Cyclonus firmly kept his audios online, ignoring his leader was just as bad as disobeying him, even if they were wails. He listened to the pitiful cries for what seemed like only astroseconds before hearing a loud crash. Had Galvatron fallen off the berth? As much as he screamed and squirmed, he had never moved enough to fall off. This worried Cyclonus, and he forced himself to stand up, ignoring the thoughts of how he was disobeying a direct command from Galvatron, and more concerned for his leader's well being.

He typed in the access codes for Galvatron's room quickly, only he and Scourge knew the pass code besides Galvatron himself, and the sweep brood leader had most likely purged it from his memory banks. Galvatron was up against a wall, his head banged up against it, creating a dent that nicely copied his crowned silhouette. His optics were offline and the neural processor was sparking brightly, like a fireworks display in his cranial plating. Galvatron screamed and banged his head against the wall again, clutching his head with both hands as he stumbled back and fell down. Cyclonus hesitantly approached him, nervously aware that Galvatron had a talent for cocking that cannon on his arm in nano-seconds to fire at an unlikely target. But Galvatron did no such thing, he didn't even yell at Cyclonus when his optics went online and saw his second in command.

"Please!" he begged, between cries of agony, "Please, Cyclonus, make it stop, I demand you!"

Cyclonus backed away, he hadn't heard Galvatron this desperate since Torkulon, and it disturbed him to the core of his spark to hear his mighty leader beg and plead. It was like a child hearing their parent scream in pain suddenly and without warning, amidst confusion there was terror at the uncertainty of having that one reliable thing in life snatched away. Cyclonus feared that, and quickly came to Galvatron's aid, kneeling down and wrapping one arm around Galvatron's torso and the other under his shoulders. Cyclonus was never personally intimate with Galvatron but he did understand his leader's physiology, and the large strut that came from Galvatron's back was one spot where Cyclonus knew would deliver a calming effect. Galvatron had often complained of the thing in his uncommon bought of sanity here and there, saying he could never lean back in a chair with the thing sticking out of his back. Cyclonus gently lifted Galvatron's head to rest on his shoulder, and touched the strut gently. His leader stiffened at first, but relaxed, if only a little, in Cyclonus' touch. Galvatron only stilled for a half a cycle before his neural crackled again and sent him into a fit of shrieking pain.

Cyclonus thought of one other alternative, but he was hesitant. Slowly he cradled Galvatron's spark chamber closer to his own, feeling the powerful heat that was created from the closeness. It wasn't a spark bonding, but it had some of the desired effects of relaxation on the crowned purple mech. In that closeness, Galvatron's spark reached out for Cyclonus' waning from the attempt, but getting close enough to send just one signal through.

That signal was like an epiphany for Cyclonus. In that one plead the spark had made, Cyclonus felt emptiness, loneliness, pain, hurt, and betrayal fill his processor. That one inch of Galvatron's spark showed eons of attempted offlinings from so many of his own, mainly one seeker that Galvatron had seen the personal destruction of. There was triumph mixed with pain, and then the finality of being once and for all abandoned by all those but one who he led fearlessly into battle. Then, Unicron. Pain at first, then warmth spread throughout, but also anxiety. Something was changed, something was different, he didn't know what and couldn't explain it, but he didn't even consider himself what he used to be before. Then all Cyclonus felt was pain, so much pain in only a fraction of a second that he wanted to throw himself into the closest sun just to end it. The signal ended, and Cyclonus let out a few quick ventilation cycles before regulating his intakes. Just having that pain for a second made Cyclonus want to offline.

Galvatron had stilled in his arms and was now clinging to him, pressing their sparks as close as they could get, still behind the chest plating. He was in recharge, and the neural processor sparked only twice before becoming dim. Cyclonus held Galvatron to himself even closer. That pain for one second was unbearable, but for Galvatron this was like any other night, and Cyclonus couldn't fathom how he could live like it.

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	2. Valet

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything associated with it.

**Title**: Valet  
**Rating**: T  
**Universe**: G1  
**Pairing**: Cyclonus/Galvatron  
**Word Count**: 2,316

Seriously guys, sorry if this seems stale, I just finished writing a literary analysis on the book Grendel, not fun. Also, yeah, another cyc/galv, I know I said I'd do others, but wait, they're coming along...eventually... Also, you can consider this slash or non slash, but, it's meant to be slash, or at least implications of such. But it won't be so vague in later chapters at least, but whatever floats your boat, aight?

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Flying away from Torkulon and back to Chaar was a painful process that Cyclonus was not enjoying in the least. Galvatron had given him a few choice words and dents before finally leaving the planet and flying off. Cyclonus knew guilt would threaten to overtake him if he didn't do something soon to make up for his actions, being a loyal soldier just wouldn't cut it this time.

Cyclonus flew directly beside Galvatron, who was beginning to look exhausted, his legs slightly bent and not in their locked straight position that was almost necessary for long flights. No wonder, Cyclonus thought, his leader had been struggling out of the planet's web for the entire solar cycle, Galvatron's internal engines were on the verge of over heating.

Not long after Cyclonus' thoughts, Galvatron finally let out a groan of discomfort and stopped, floating in space and unmoving. Cyclonus backed up to his leader's position, and Scourge approached carefully.

"Mighty Galvatron, are you injured?" Cyclonus asked, he was reprimanded with a swift backhand. Usually Galvatron's blow would send Cyclonus sprawling, but the jet transformer's face barely moved. He looked to Scourge, wondering if he should act like it was powerful as it was meant to be. Scourge just shrugged, and Cyclonus decided to stay still.

"Nggheaa..." Galvatron groaned, struggling to start his propulsion, but an unfortunately familiar sound of 'chk-chk-chk' repetition coming from Galvatron's legs only told them all one thing, their leader's flight engine was down, and he was now subject to the lack of gravity. He floated there for a few astroseconds before trying again, but he was met with the same disappointment. The only difference in the second try was that there was a very loud sound that resembled an airplane engine shutting down after his propulsion hitched. Cyclonus had heard both sounds many times, sometimes in his own systems as they were on the verge of crashing, but he had shut them down before so, to avoid irrepairable damage.

"Mighty Galvatron, perhaps..." Scourge began, keeping a close eye on Galvatron's cannon, "...we could carry you back to Chaar?"

"No one carries me!" Galvatron shouted, flailing his arms, and slowly turning around in space to face Scourge. "I am Galvatron! Galvatron does not need help!"

"Of course, mighty Galvatron! Forgive me for assuming!" Scourge said, backing up to his trio of Sweeps. Cyclonus flew over to the group and gave Galvatron one small glance before speaking to the huntsmen.

"Perhaps you should leave this matter to me, Scourge." Cyclonus grumbled out, "For your own sake, at the very least."

Scourge let out a mumble of agreement, and quickly transformed and led his Sweeps out of sight. They would only be a hindrance to Cyclonus if he was going to try and help the insane mech. Being around Cyclonus made him somewhat less volatile than when he wasn't near, although those occasions were very few.

The decepticon leader didn't say a word as he watched Scourge and the Sweeps fly away. His optics began to dim as his internal machines rerouted power to his energon pumps, trying to keep him out of stasis lock. Cyclonus was almost happy that Galvatron was exhausted, he wasn't as unpredictable, and didn't have the energy to waste on shooting at any of them. The jet transformer didn't say a word, not wanting to interrupt this rare silence between the two.

Cyclonus decided that actions would speak better than words, which usually failed Galvatron anyway, and transformed into his jet mode, his size growing as he consumed mass. The large cockpit roof lifted up, revealing the seat for Galvatron. He inched towards his leader, fearing a cannon shot straight at one of his more vulnerable areas. This was the only way he could think of trying to gain his leader's trust after his unexcusable mistake for the time being.

Galvatron looked at the open cockpit, it felt nostalgic to him, for some reason, he was sure he could remember but when he tried, it hurt too much. He quickly tried to shake off the pain as his neural processor crackled and sparked for a brief couple of seconds. He hesitated reaching out and grabbing Cyclonus' side and climbing in, he had just been betrayed by the one decepticon he dared to trust. As insane as he was, it was comforting to have one thing that kept things stable, and that was Cyclonus' loyalty, but now that was under question.

Galvatron finally decided to give Cyclonus the benefit of the doubt, something he'd dare not do to any other of his soldiers. He struggled to pull himself in, the lack of gravity wasn't helping much, but once he finally fixated himself into the seat, Cyclonus' canopy snapped down, and a gravity field was generated, letting Galvatron's weight ease into the chair.

The decepticon leader grunted, feeling his back strut come in contact with the piloting seat. After a few moments of situating himself, he leaned sideways back into the seat and relaxed his joints. The back strut was an annoyance, but it was necessary for him so he could balance his weight in his alternate mode. Unicron had also designed him to sit up straight and not have to lean on anything, a lot of good that did either of them. Cyclonus had often wondered when the thing would get caught on something and cause some catastrophic mishap.

Cyclonus engaged his thrusters and flew forward, giving the coordinates of Chaar to his auto pilot and retreating back to think instead of concentrating on piloting. It had been a long time since Galvatron had sat in that seat, too long for Cyclonus' liking. He remembered fondly when he was acting as his leader's personal valet, flying him everywhere and anywhere. He had enjoyed swooping down towards the decepticons at the despicable coronation of the traitor Starscream, sending the onlookers into a panic as they dove out of the way to avoid getting mowed over. Swooping in on the autobots on earth and placing his life in Galvatron's hands as the crowned mech steered and maneuvered with expert precision that only he, the mightiest of decepticons could perform. When Cyclonus had been hit by Ultra Magnus' barrage and then burnt on his underbelly by one of those pitiful Dinobots, it was Galvatron that demanded that his jet be the first to receive repairs. Galvatron would've been the first if he had been damaged, but that wasn't the case. To Cyclonus it was the thought that counted.

He had swelled with pride when Galvatron ordered him to do a solo attack on the autobot shuttle. After Unicron's torture session had ended and Cyclonus returned into the warship, Galvatron had given him a firm nod, more than enough for the aerial warrior.

Things were so different now, Cyclonus lamented as he performed diagnostics on Galvatron's prone form that rested in his seat. The older decepticons mourned the loss of Megatron, and despised Galvatron. Cyclonus mourned only the loss of his leader's sanity, not Cybertron, not Unicron, not the matrix of leadership, none of those mattered to him. They paled in comparison; everything paled in comparison. He'd never say this to any of the other decepticons, they'd call him insane as well. He'd tell Scourge, perhaps, but the Sweep leader wasn't terribly fond of Galvatron, or at least not the way Cyclonus was. And since when did Scourge ever have the patience to listen, or to care.

Cyclonus finished his scans and ran them through his processor. Galvatron had eight internal thrusters in each leg, meant mainly for atmospheric exit, reentries, and landings. Continual flight wasn't his strong point, and after taxing his energy on Torkulon, pushing himself off of the planet and halfway across the galaxy back to Chaar wore the thrusters to their breaking point. They'd have to be replaced, that would take primus knew how long. Because they were Unicronian, they didn't exactly have spare parts around. Galvatron and Cyclonus were one of a kind, Scourge could take parts from his Sweeps and the other decepticons had predesignated builds and could easily take parts from scrap heaps or purchase them with what little energon they had from under the table deals. This wasn't a common problem since mainly they simply needed to be welded or have outer armor replaced.

An entire thrust system being broken was unheard of, because none of them were foolish enough to ignore their own warning systems. Cyclonus had to wonder if his leader even had warning systems after the plasma bath, or if he chose to ignore them. Either way, just finding parts would take at least 60 solar cycles, Galvatron's one of a kind thrusters would have to be remade, some pitiful planet would require being threatened so they could gain more supplies, energon would have to be required for the process of construction.

Cyclonus' vents let out a sputter of aggravation, this couldn't have come at a worse time. Galvatron was stubborn, he would try to fly, Cyclonus could just picture his leader attempting to lift off and falling down flat on his face. He would've snickered if he didn't care so much. Galvatron wasn't in recharge, so Cyclonus felt like it was necessary to inform him.

"Galvatron, your flight thrusters have been damaged beyond repair. They will have to be replaced." Cyclonus' voice spoke, filling the cockpit. Galvatron only grumbled in response, resting his head on the edge of the chair. Being in the cockpit was a comforting experience, he felt safe and protected, and he was, more literally than metaphorically, surrounded by loyalty. He didn't feel like worrying about his flight thrusters, he had felt their dead weight sink in after trying to accelerate the second time in space and failing. It didn't matter, if the decepticons didn't get them fixed quick enough, he'd just shoot them. It was logic among insanity, if he shot at his troops, they worked faster. Therefor he shot at them and ergo they; 99 of the time; worked faster. He struck Cyclonus often but it was only out of frustration, not to hurt the purple jet. If he wanted to harm his second in command, well, that was why he had his cannon.

Cyclonus had expected a loud scream of rage or his control panels being smashed, but Galvatron just stayed still, silent and motionless. He was surprised, to say the least. But the more he thought about it, it became obvious, since Galvatron was exhausted enough not to get angry, it was probably safe to assume the same circumstances for caring were in place.

Chaar approached ahead, the slag pile planet growing larger and larger as they neared. Cyclonus entered the atmosphere over the main structure, letting the heat of the reentry bounce off of his underbelly. Galvatron's vents let out a long sigh as he saw Hook waiting by the docking tower to asses his damage. Despite Galvatron's impatience, Hook always managed to get the decepticon leader on the operating table for as long as possible, aggravating him only further when it came to repairs. He knew the constructicon would have a field day with his dead thrusters. Observing them, tinkering with them, and eventually, pulling the useless pieces of machinery from Galvatron's legs. The very thought made Galvatron almost cringe, but he held what little composure he could.

Hook watched as Cyclonus flew nearer, but as he was about to signal the jet to land near himself, it took off. Cyclonus sped forward, dipping low towards the roof of the base complex. Hook saw the familiar disk of gray around the jet as he quickly broke the sound barrier and vanished on the horizon.

Galvatron had nearly entered stasis lock when he felt Cyclonus suddenly speed forwards. He tried to make a coherent sentence but couldn't. All the decepticon leader could do was stare out the window, watching as Cyclonus shot past buildings and cliffs, dipping and rising. For a moment the decepticon leader enjoyed himself, feeling the motion of the quick rises and spins Cyclonus performed, because he knew it'd be a long time before he'd ever be able to do it again on his own.

Cyclonus' thoughts were parallel, Galvatron would have to be grounded from flight for an indefinite amount of time, and with their short supply of energon, Cyclonus wouldn't be able to fly Galvatron around until the repairs were done unless it was urgent. He knew personally that Galvatron wouldn't engage the enemy if he wasn't fully repaired and function, one spec of arrogant sanity. But Cyclonus compromised, arrogant sanity was still sanity. The least Cyclonus could to for Galvatron other than giving his leader his own parts, was to give him one last taste of freedom before he'd have to return to the world of obeying gravity.

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Lamest. Ending line. Ever. I apologize, I'm just...really really tired. Expect Blurr in the next chapter, seriously.


	3. Sprint

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything associated with it.

**Title**: Sprint  
**Rating**: T  
**Universe**: G1  
**Pairing**: Rodimus/Blurr (developing)  
**Word Count**: 3,731

Alright sorry this is so long and I guess...unslashy? I'm just trying to lay the foundation for future chapters concerning these two. Blurr needs some loooove.

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Blurr had an amazing voice. Rodimus thus far had only heard it in two levels. High pitched and faster than their processors could handle, to slow, low and dangerous. The latter of the two was rare, almost never. Only once had Rodimus heard Blurr talk at a normal pace, and that was on Zamojin, when Blurr had fallen hard and broken a leg strut.

Rodimus sighed as he sat at his post on Cybertron. Today couldn't have been more boring. No sign of Galvatron, Cyclonus, the Quintessons or anything else that wanted them dead. No repairs that needed doing, no one's life needed saving. Rodimus didn't enjoy being the 'chosen one', and had wished for a day like this to come along. Now that it was here, he wasn't so sure he wanted it anymore.

He sat up from watching the dull computer display of different sector data, Ultra Magnus snapped out of accidental recharge quickly and stood at attention, but Rodimus just waved his hand. Magnus sat back down, attempting to read all the sector status reports he had luckily missed out on in all the action they saw. It wasn't that he didn't care about the status of 5,000 different sectors, he just didn't want to read through them all to know nothing had changed.

Rodimus exited the base and walked down to the large flat plain that was in front of it. There were no buildings around the base within a five mile radius. It left them open for an attack, but it also meant when they fired to defend themselves, they wouldn't hit any other structures, or cybertronians. Not that there were that many any more, many had moved to different sectors, fled Cybertron during the war, or perished in Unicron's attack. Those that did remain weren't stupid enough to live near the autobot's base, as it was a constant target for attacks.

The autobot leader sat down at the base of the main structure wall, staring at out the flat surface. His audios picked up something coming from the left, he zoomed in, spotting the characteristic colors of pink and green. Arcee and Springer sped forward, driving across the empty streets of the far off city. Dust and particles kicked up behind them as the two entered the flat plain. Springer was falling behind, Rodimus observed, the triple changer was built for reliable power, but not fast power.

Arcee passed the furthest of the two guard towers that were on either end of the plain and transformed, skidding to a halt. Springer followed close behind and transformed beside her, crossing his arms in a pout. Rodimus frowned, weren't they supposed to be on patrol? He couldn't blame them though, seeing as how he had left his own post to get away from the dull diagnostic screens.

"I win!" Arcee cheered, skipping around her spark mate. He frowned and stuck his nose in the air, trying to ignore Arcee's giggles. No sooner than when she stopped, a familiar sound filled the air that they all knew too well for their liking. Blurr's engines didn't hum or 'vroom' as the other's did, it was actually silent unless one would place their audios right on Blurr's engine cover. It was the air produced from his hovering, streaking under and over him in unique whistling sounds that alerted others to his presence. He reached them before they could get a good look at him, transforming besides Arcee and Springer as the dust settled.

"I saw you all racing! Were you all racing? I want to race, because this is boring, boring, boring! I've never been so bored in my life, no Galvatron, no Quintessons, no nothing!" he complained with expert precision, each word was never slurred or stuttered, it was just too fast for the rest of them to comprehend sometimes.

"...what?" Arcee asked.

"He wants to race us." Springer said flatly, as he was very fluent in Blurrism.

"Oh...well..." Arcee thought, after a second her optics brightened, "Alright, I have an idea! We'll all race again, and Blurr will have to race us on foot."

"What!?" the hover car screeched, "No, no, no! I have to be in vehicle mode or else I'm slow, slow slow, don't you understand? If I wanted to race on foot I would've said so but I don't so don't ask!"

Arcee picked up most of it, "Well..." she murmured, "You'd win in vehicle mode for sure, so why don't you make the race a little more fair for Springer and I?"

Blurr thought for a second before answering, "You're right I would win! I guess it would be fair since it'd be a guaranteed win for me and then it would be boring, boring, boring. Where do we start? Where do we finish? Tell me, so we can get started! I want to go, go, go!"

"We'll start here, and do a circle around the shuttle factory." Arcee said, pointing to a huge skyscraper that rose above the others in the distant city. The shuttle factory had been damaged and abandoned during the great war, but it still stood like a grand monolith for what Cybertron once was.

"Fine, great, spectacular, stupendous, let's go!" Blurr said, getting down low in a position that Rodimus recalled from watching the humans Olympic games. Blurr had observed the track portion, scoffing at how slow the humans were, but appreciating the way they pushed their bodies to the limit of their functionality. Blurr himself had been aching to join the Galactic games, but his mission with Wheelie had prevented it. It was a severe understatement to say he was simply upset.

Arcee and Springer transformed, their engines thrumming restlessly.

"Alright," came Arcee's voice, "Ready, set...go!"

Blurr was off in a flash before the other's tires could even begin to drag them forward. Rodimus could only catch a glimpse of him as he shot across the flat plain and into the city. He had never really seen Blurr that often, and had never gotten the chance to simply watch the mech run. No one was really close to Blurr, per say, he was an admirable comrade and, when he would shut up, a good listener. Ultra Magnus had more experience with Blurr than Rodimus did, and from what the autobot leader had heard, Blurr was specifically made during the war against the decepticons to be a messenger.

The autobots had created the Aerialbots in response to the decepticon's mastery of flight, but even then, the jets couldn't match the perfection in the air that the other faction had earned from Meta-Cycles of experience and training. Getting messages to one another was hard enough in the air, on land it was almost impossible. That's when Blurr had been created.

Blurr's purpose was his downfall, created for speed and only for speed left little to be desired in other areas, specifically his speech and thoughts, going at 100 miles an astrosecond. He had an impressive military record, all his messages, packages, supplies and sometimes humans he was ordered to deliver to Metroplex or Cybertron all arrived on time and safe, if a little shaken from the trip. Rodimus almost felt sorry for Blurr, speed was the mech's entire life, there was no, as the humans would say, time to 'stop and smell the roses'.

Rodimus was not inclined to pity. He didn't pity Sandstorm when the autobot's perfect world had been destroyed. He didn't feel sorry for himself, no matter how much he complained. And most of all he didn't feel sorry for Blurr, despite the blue mech's unfortunate manufacturing. He couldn't feel sorry for him, the only thing his processors emitted was awe at the sight of the messenger running across the plane and into the city, and Rodimus had to admit, while Blurr was lacking in other areas, pushing himself to the limit was something he did well. Servos and joints pumping as he forced his legs to go faster than the two cars racing behind him, already entering the city's empty streets. Every action Blurr put forward as he ran was perfection, hundreds of internal servos, struts and hydraulics working furiously in absolute unison, unmatched by any other.

Rodimus stood up, Blurr had entered the city and Arcee and Springer were behind him. He transformed and drove to the guard tower that stood as the finishing point for the race. He stood beside it, waiting for Blurr to exit the city. It didn't take more than a breem for the blue mech to appear in the far off streets, running forward with Springer and Arcee nowhere in sight behind the dust he kicked up. He entered the large plane, slamming one foot in front of the other at a blinding pace. Rodimus moved to the side as Blurr reached the guard tower, digging his feet into the ground to skid to a jolting halt.

Blurr leaned against the guard tower, his vents trying to cool down from being forced into overdrive.

"By the Matrix, Blurr," Rodimus said, walking over to him, "I've never seen anyone run that fast."

Blurr looked up at him, intaking air through his mouth and vents simultaneously. He nodded to Rodimus, not giving any verbal reply.

"...you didn't push yourself too hard, did you?"

Blurr shook his head, slowly lowering himself to sit down. Rodimus' face contorted to a rare display of concern and he knelt down beside the other mech and placed a hand on his shoulder. Blurr looked up at him, forcing eye contact. After a few uncomfortable seconds Rodimus looked up, as Arcee and Springer drove towards them and reached the guard tower, transforming.

"Impressive, Blurr." Springer said, looking down at him. Rodimus looked up at the two and frowned.

"Uh...Sorry Rodimus, we kind of got bored..." Springer said nervously. Not as nervous if it had been Optimus or Magnus there, but still with a the effort of concern. "...not that there was anything to do in the first place, you know..."

"Don't worry about it." the autobot leader grumbled, looking back to Blurr, "Shift's almost over anyway."

Rodimus helped Blurr up, the blue hover car allowing himself to lean on Rodimus for support. He was still trying to calm down his ventilation systems but they demanded air, so Blurr had to supply it, which meant less talking and more intaking. A loud metallic sound that resembled a bell resounded throughout the base, signaling the shift change. Rodimus could see through the window of the main base complex as Magnus got up and walked out, nodding to Perceptor who entered and sat down.

Rodimus felt Blurr pull away from him, and heard his intakes slow to their normal pace. They were both silent as they watched Springer and Arcee walk into the barracks section and others exit and attend to their posts. Rodimus was hesitant to talk to Blurr after that brief eye contact, he barely knew Blurr outside of being a soldier. Rodimus sighed, if he was going to be the autobot leader he might as well give an effort to get to know his own men better.

"Blurr, with me." he ordered, transforming and driving into the abandoned city. Blurr transformed and followed, a few feet parallel to Rodimus.

The two rode through the streets in silence until reaching one of the many huge drop-offs, the golden glow of the center of Cybertron still radiating brightly from below. Rodimus changed back into his robot mode and stood at the edge, looking over, across the divide to a smaller city scape that was sparsely populated. Blurr transformed as well, standing beside Rodimus, tapping his right foot quickly.

"Have you ever considered a different profession?" Rodimus asked after careful consideration, not breaking his gaze to the city across the rift.

"Why would I consider a different profession? I love this profession, I get to go fast, fast, fast and shoot decepticons, pew pew! Who would hate doing this? I don't hate doing this, not one bit, not one bit at all!" Blurr answered, he looked up to Rodimus, "Why? Why do you ask? Am I not doing good enough? Do I need to get better? Tell me! I need to know, or else I won't be able to improve and then you'll ask this question again, because why else would you ask?"

Rodimus rolled his optics in frustration, he hadn't been with Blurr for more than a couple of breems and already the blue mech was making him aggravated. He pressed the feeling back and replied, "I was just wondering if this is what you want to do."

"Of course it's what I want to do, I'd have it no other way because if I had it any other way then I wouldn't enjoy myself, there's nothing else to do! I mean, I absolutely, positively-"

"Quit!" Rodimus snapped, whirring around to face Blurr. The smaller bot flinched and backed away. Rodimus set his gaze down at Blurr, "I know you can talk at a normal pace and I'd appreciate it if you did. It's grating on everyone's nerves, Blurr, slow it down a pace."

Blurr returned the hard stare, that same gaze that was so uncharacteristic and almost frightening. When he didn't say anything, Rodimus shook his head, "Don't give me that look, on Zamojin you talked just like everyone else when you told Magnus and I to go find Perceptor. Fess up." Sometimes Rodimus hated being leader, he never knew whether he was saying the right thing or not until it was too late, and when Blurr averted his gaze and looked down, Rodimus knew it was one of those times.

Blurr took in one long deep breath and poured the air back out, the vents on his back releasing the hot streams from his system, he finally cringed and replied, "I apologize."

The perfectly normal speed of speech was stranger to Rodimus than anything he could recall in a long time. It was Blurr's voice, nothing had changed, but hearing it so much slower was like hearing an entirely different mech. Blurr didn't seem so friendly all of a sudden.

"I'm..sorry I snapped at you Blurr, I've just been edgy these past few days." Rodimus said, he really hadn't meant to hurt the littler bot's feelings. He mentally kicked himself, another crack in his composure like that could make him look like an even worse leader than he already was.

"It's fine." was Blurr's clipped reply. The autobot leader wanted to go hide in a corner, having Blurr talk normally made his wishes instantly reverse, he wanted the normal Blurr back, and now. The little blue mech was intimidating in some odd way when he was silent, maybe not to those who didn't know him, but to Rodimus, it was a drastic change. It made Rodimus wonder what else the little blue hover car hid from his fellow autobots.

"As I asked before...is there any other career you've been interested in? I mean...surely you don't want to spend your entire function cycle as a messenger."

Blurr was quiet for a long time, and Rodimus was about to ask if he had even heard the question before Blurr finally looked away and answered, "No."

"Why?" Rodimus asked, "Just out of curiosity?"

"...don't have anywhere else to go."

Rodimus kept silent after that. Blurr's home had been Metroplex, where he was created, his engineers had been lost in the decepticon attack, and now he was stationed on Cybertron, in the barracks. Rodimus could assume that Blurr didn't have a spark mate, he either wasn't interested in any of the mechs there or didn't have the time. Rodimus also felt mean spirited upon wondering what kind of mech could stand Blurr's talking all day.

Rodimus had his share of potential mates, Arcee was one, but after inheriting the matrix Rodimus couldn't see himself with her for some reason. She was happier with Springer, at least he had time for her, and she was still a great friend. There had been many others, some femmes, some not. Spark bonding was a ritual that Rodimus had engaged in frequently as Hot Rod, but was lacking it sorely now as the 'chosen one'.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you talk at that pace?" he asked, looking back to Blurr. A question he was sure many mechs had asked and gotten a 100 word reply in under a nanoclick. Again, the blue hover car took his time, Rodimus could assume he wasn't used to talking without being spontaneous with his answers, and Blurr had to think of good, solid words that said straight away what he felt.

"It's...being fast even when I'm still." he eventually replied. Rodimus sighed, being fast was ingrained into Blurr's systems, there was nothing anyone could do about it. Talking slow simply felt and sounded wrong to both of them.

After a long period of silence, a question Rodimus had once thought long ago popped up and he quickly asked "What's it like? To go that fast?"

Blurr transformed and hovered for a moment, Rodimus did the same, his engines awaiting ignition.

"Just try and keep up." Blurr said, it wasn't a taunt, it was a request. He sped off, Rodimus followed, having to output almost all of his energy just to keep up, and Blurr wasn't even going at a fourth of his speed. Blurr accelerated, and Rodimus' engine roared as he tried to keep up. He hadn't driven this fast, ever. And he barely realized he had gained so much speed in such a short amount of time. Just trying to keep up with Blurr was a task in itself. It wasn't that, as Hot Rod, he hadn't sped across Metroplex or let Daniel enjoy a few joy rides, even though he was technically driving. Back then he had more or less been interested in how good he looked, not so much as how fast he went. His speedometer was reaching as far as it could, and Rodimus felt exhilarated as he narrowly avoided buildings and debris left over from the great war. Blurr was having an easier time, he had no cab to carry and wasn't nearly as big.

Rodimus felt like he was weightless, ignoring the energy he was outputting, and becoming unaware of how much he weighed. It was like being on the outside of a shuttle during takeoff, a weightlessness mixed with incredible awareness of all his surroundings. Like self pity, Rodimus wasn't exactly keen on jealousy, but if this was only a tiny fraction of what Blurr felt, then jealousy was a nothing in comparison.

Rodimus' audios picked something up as Blurr began to pull ahead of him with ease. Laughter; an outburst of joy in the midst of the speed. Rodimus realized he'd never heard Blurr laugh before. He'd heard him complain, cry out in pain, and...pretty much complain some more. But never laugh. It was almost surreal, Blurr's laugh was fast and reminded Rodimus of an engine hitching uncontrollably. The hover car was almost hysterical as he sped off, leaving Rodimus in the dust. Rodimus himself had felt the urge to yell out in exhileration as he careened forward, he felt unstoppable and watching the landscape become nothing more than passing glimpses was amazing.

He skidded to a halt, watching Blurr disappear quickly into the distance. After a few breems of waiting, he spotted the messenger returning, twice as fast as when he had departed. The hover car was on him in seconds, the air screaming around him as debris was kicked up behind in the streets. Blurr stopped in one violent jerking motion, letting the dust settle.

"Quite a rush." Rodimus said, he transformed and gently placed his hand on Blurr's windshield.

Blurr's engine was silent, but Rodimus could swear he heard the smaller mech purr as he stroked the large pane of glass. Blurr transformed and looked at Rodimus, the eye contact more relaxed and bearable than before. Rodimus placed a hand on Blurr's shoulder.

"If you ever want to talk...not complain, Blurr, but talk about something that concerns you; I'm always here. Or at least I can be when my shift is over." he said. He paused and added, "And, you can talk any way you want. Whatever's comfortable for you."

A cracked grin made it's way across Blurr's face and he broke out into a stream of words, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You don't know how hard it is to talk all slow, it's like having to think forever about what to say and then you say it and even though you thought about it for nanoseconds, astroseconds, breems, cycles, solar-cycles, meta-cycles, or mega-cycles it still doesn't sound like it should."

Rodimus smiled at Blurr, smiling was a bit awkward for Rodimus, he didn't do it that often. Blurr had to express himself some how, and just a few words wouldn't cut it. It was asking simplicity out of something never meant to be simple. Rodimus realized he had only cracked the surface of Blurr's persona, and that there was so much more than he, or anyone realized.

* * *

There will totally be like...a sequel...an M rated sequal! I promise there'll be some action! Or something. Idk.


	4. Euphoria

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything associated with it.

**Title**: Euphoria  
**Rating**: M  
**Universe**: G1  
**Pairing**: Rodimus/Blurr  
**Word Count**: 5,634

So this chapter was basically like pulling teeth.

* * *

Blurr and Rodimus' relationship had been steadily growing stronger and stronger over time. Albeit it wasn't more than racing down the empty streets of the nearby abandoned city during their free time, it was more than Rodimus did with any of the other autobots. He didn't feel that dreadful loneliness so much with Blurr, every time they careened down the empty streets, he wasn't the chosen one, the single leader of an entire race, he was just _fast _(also losing the race).The initial boredom these days of peace and quiet had first brought on was now disappearing. The reason for all this free time was obvious, the decepticon attacks had simply vanished without question, but a spy reconnaissance team had finally found out why.

Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Springer, Arcee, Kup and Blurr all stood in front of a large display screen that had the spy recording. It was hazy, the recording device was shaky at best, and the image was full of skips and hitches, but there was Cyclonus, landing in his jet form with Galvatron inside. Cyclonus transformed, Galvatron doing a drop out of the cockpit on to the ground. The decepticon leader stumbled and nearly fell, and it didn't take a med-bot to tell that there was something wrong with his legs with the way the purple mech limped over to his second in command.

"Look at that!" Kup exclaimed, "His legs is busted! No wonder there haven't been any attacks."

They continued to watch as Cyclonus let Galvatron lean on him for support and lead the struggling mech into the building. Hook came in from off of screen, still apparently talking to Cyclonus, who was doing an effortless job of ignoring him. As Cyclonus and Galvatron passed through the doorway, the purple decepticon leader suddenly went rigid, a familiar sign of stasis lock setting in. Galvatron collapsed, being spared a face full of ground by Cyclonus, who lifted his leader into his arms and continued into the building, Hook close behind.

"The decepticons won't do any form of an organized attack without their leader." Rodimus said, shutting off the video, "And with Galvatron in stasis lock and his legs needing serious repairs, I doubt he'll be out of the med-bay anytime soon."

"This is a perfect time to attack them, Rodimus." Springer said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"But it's also an underhanded victory." the autobot leader replied, "They don't have a chance if we attack them now, they don't even have the energon to keep their leader out of stasis lock. Let them stay as the aggressors."

Blurr replied, "I think we should absolutely positively definitely attack or else Galvatron will get better and you know what happens if Galvatron gets better? Hm? Do you? Hm? He attacks us! He attacks, slaughters, massacres, all that nasty stuff that I don't want happening to us, let alone me, so we should attack attack attack!"

"I already said no, Blurr."

"Well, without the decepticons to worry about, all we have are the Quintessons, and I don't expect them to attack outright." Ultra Magnus said, looking over at Rodimus, "For right now, I think we should focus on maintaining Cybertron's renewal. Then if there still aren't any Decepticon attacks after a considerable amount of time, then perhaps Cyclonus is willing to consider a peace treaty if Galvatron never fully recovers."

Rodimus nodded, and dismissed the meeting. Their shift had ended two cycles ago and Rodimus had called all of them there for the emergency meeting when he had received the transmission. The other autobots went their separate ways, while Blurr waited by the door for Rodimus.

The two walked out of the main base complex and transformed, driving to the abandoned city and to their new signature spot, the edge of one of the many drop offs the planet featured, another city miles across the great divide. They entered robot mode and sat there, staring out at the display of gold light that poured from the center of Cybertron.

Rodimus sighed, enjoying the silence of Cybertron. The silence wasn't exactly the absence of sound, it was the simple lack of speech or laser fire. Both of those things Rodimus heard on almost a daily basis, so when none were present, it was strange. He could sit and listen to the hum of the engines under Cybertron's surface. The dull filler to the empty air was comforting, always having something larger so close by made Rodimus feel secure.

Rodimus loved Cybertron like he loved nothing else. More than the autobot cause, which he was never zealous to in the first place, it was more of a way of life to him anyhow, no questions of why involved. Earth was a planet he despised. He'd never admit it to Daniel or any of the other autobots, but sometimes he couldn't stand the thought of that planet. The sun was the worst thing of all. His optics would have to dim just so the lenses wouldn't overheat due to the giant ball of gas. Rain water got into his joints and debris from the wind, especially around the beaches would build up in his servos.

Cybertron had no sun, as the planet had an odd habit of simply drifting through space. Skyfire had recalled his voyage to earth, and the length of time it had taken, suggesting that it had been closer to earth than it was now. It didn't matter to Rodimus, he enjoyed the endless night of Cybertron, the stars puncturing through some parts of the sky that weren't completely lit up by machinery or the glow from the plasma energy chamber far below.

Cybertron was by far the best of any planet Rodimus had been to or would ever going to, in Rodimus' opinion. Better than Paradron and Zamojin, although the latter never really had a chance after he was the one with the dents after falling into a tree. Land of the metal moon, he fondly recalled, that's what it had been nicknamed long ago during the golden age, when the galactic games were involved. Then the war started and the Cybertronian athletes were either banned or dead, either way there hadn't been any participants for quite a while.

Thinking of athletics led his thoughts back to Blurr, who was absentmindedly swinging his legs back and forth, sitting on the edge of the drop off. The blue mech was staring off into space, optics lacking the usual glow of full awareness.

"Did you see the look on Springer's face today?" Rodimus asked quietly, staring down the huge ravine.

Blurr snickered, "He's been cranky cranky cranky ever since last solar-cycle. I know why, do you know why? Because if you don't I'll tell you because Wheelie told me because Kup told him because Perceptor told him because Ultra Magnus said something to him because Arcee told Ultra Magnus. And now I might tell you, that is if you want to know, do you?"

Rodimus took a moment to process the words before answering, "...yes?"

Blurr gave him a cruel looking grin that one might have mistaken as playful, "Well you know how Springer is all big, bad, fast, Mr. I can beat you up, Mr. I'll knock out your brain casing? Arcee told Ultra Magnus that he called her the 'G' word one day while they were arguing, and no one mentions the 'G' word around Arcee you know, because she gets all angry, and then she acts up and gets moody and nasty and mean mean mean."

"The 'G' word?"

"Girl!" Blurr snorted out, "Springer said she was acting like a girl, but technically Arcee isn't a girl, she's a femme which isn't a girl because it just isn't a girl, a girl is an organic term, and Arcee hates it, despises it, disdains it, and then Springer had to go call her that and are they going to be sleeping on the same berth for the next 10 solar cycles? I think not! Springer shouldn't have said anything he shouldn't have because now he'll never have any fun for a long time, sucker!"

Rodimus and Blurr shared a good laugh at their unfortunate friend's behalf, Rodimus felt bad for Springer, the triple changer was known to be quite the ladies man, but Arcee wasn't exactly the type who wanted boxes of heart shaped energon snacks or organisms known as 'flowers' that died quickly anyway. Arcee had told Rodimus once a long time ago at her creation anniversary that the best gift she had gotten out of the multitude of presents was a new sight for her pistol that Kup had purchased at the last minute. A creation anniversary was something that all of them had, but rarely celebrated anymore, besides what little currency they had was saved for basic supplies like energon or thrown in the pool of funds for repairs.

Rodimus wasn't interested in Blurr's creation date, and neither was Blurr apparently, the hover car had only mentioned it once during a discussion of who was oldest, and dropped it after that, saying that it didn't matter to him. Blurr was no sparkling, he could be considered a fully functional, grown cybertronian, simply because he was programmed that way instead of the usual 'development' program that most of the others had.

Although the Matrix had been the main benefactor in the drastic change from Hot Rod to Rodimus Prime, the autobot leader's personality had also changed because of the circumstances he was thrust into. Kup wasn't put online as a cranky old fart who had an endless supply of war stories, and Ultra Magnus wasn't created as wise as he was now. Rodimus recalled Bumblebee who was probably the most child like of the original autobot team that landed on earth, well, maybe not child like, but probably the easiest to get along with. Wheelie had taken the place of 'youngest', as even Blurr was his senior.

Blurr wouldn't change much no matter how many battles he saw, but that wasn't saying that he needed to change. He was mature, no doubt, selfless, and many times he acted like a sparkling but he always kept his head on his shoulders. Many other autobots were the same way, even Wheelie. Upon thinking of the strange little autobot, Rodimus looked over to Blurr.

"So how was your previous mission with Wheelie, delivering sealed documents to the humans moon base, or something?" he asked.

Blurr grimaced, "Ugh! You'd think someone so talkative would be great company but no, no no no no no! Talk, talk talk talk, that's all he does and it's annoying, grating, aggravating, irking! Rhyme this, rhyme that! I want to throw him out the airlock, zip, fwoosh, in a nanosecond he's in a vacuum and heading for the center of the nearest star, good enough for me! Good riddance, good bye, enjoy your flight, see you later, that's it!"

Rodimus chuckled at Blurr's response, then went silent. Blurr broke the ice eventually, starting his sentence at a normal pace then quickly speeding up towards the end of it, "Well, I say good riddance to Arcee and Springer being all lovey, it's annoying! They have a schedule, you know? Did you know they have a schedule? Every two nights it's clank clank clank from the other room and I'm at the end of the hall from them and even I can hear it! You know why? Because my recharge is light unlike everyone else, you see, because I come out of recharge easier and that's the problem because no one else hears them except me and I won't say anything, but I don't need to hear every single detail, every single breem, every single astrosecond of their scheduled spark bondings!"

Rodimus looked at Blurr as if the hover car had grown an additional head, "...while relationships are permitted, if they disrupt normal scheduled activity such as recharge I must-"

"No no no no no!" Blurr interrupted, "No punishment needed, none at all, you hear? Because she won't come back for at least another ten solar cycles, and you know what happens tomorrow?"

Rodimus felt a mixture of ridiculous and stupid when he shook his head.

"My barracks rotation! Barracks rotation! Which means I'll be switching stations which means I don't have to hear them when they finally get back together and have angry, slow, make-up spark bonding, because I'll be in the Alpha section with you and Magnus and Kup and not the Epsilon section with them! So that fixes my problem! Instantly! Automa-"

"Blurr, tell me, have you ever...bonded with someone?" Rodimus suddenly asked, his tone flat and serious. He had been pondering the question ever since Springer and Arcee had been mentioned, and he had to satisfy his curiosity, but he didn't want Blurr to get the wrong idea.

Blurr's mouth stopped in it's tracks, slightly agape and his optics staring at Rodimus with an unreadable expression. Blurr cleared his throat, sounding like a dying engine and replied,

"Ah...no." he lowered his head, down casting his gaze to his knees.

"Don't feel guilty Blurr," Rodimus huffed, "It's not like there's any time to get to know someone anyway."

"I know you." Blurr rushed out, looking up at Rodimus. The autobot leader's gaze was still and silent, belaying none of the confusion and almost anticipation that welled up within him. Blurr took the silence as a negative response and quickly stood up,

"I have reports to race and autobots to fill out!" he stammered, transforming and screaming off through the city back towards the base. Rodimus stood up and watched as Blurr vanished on the horizon, making a mad dash just to be further away from him.

He frowned, he hadn't meant for Blurr to interpret his silence and disapproval, only as a signal to continue speaking. He mentally kicked himself, what a fine leader he was, even the one soldier he was close to got put off by him. Well, he'd have ample time tomorrow after Blurr switched barracks to talk with him about it. Rodimus didn't like to show weakness, in fact he hated it. Not just in others, but in himself most of all. He was supposed to be the new Prime, the new leader, the pioneer that catapulted the remaining scattered autobots back to unity and peace. However upon looking across the abandoned cities and empty landscapes, the cold reality of truth spat these ideals right back at him. It would take stellar-cycles to simply rebuild small portions of Cybertron, Primus knew how long it would take to fix the giant claw marks Unicron had left on the northern hemisphere.

He was weak and he knew it, but the least he could do was hide it. And now he had ruined the one relationship that wasn't commander to sub-commander or leader to soldier, he had driven off a companion simply by allowing a few seconds of silence and a blank stare. The more he thought about Blurr the more anxious he got. It was true, his spark had been aching for contact for so long, that he couldn't even remember what it felt like anymore. A relationship between a commander and a soldier wasn't unheard of in autobot history, but Rodimus didn't know if he could take the whispers and stares if anything got out around the base.

Ultra Magnus and Perceptor had something going on, this Rodimus knew, as the colossal blue and white mech had let something slip while watching the scientist conduct an experiment. Rodimus had no problem with relationships as long as they didn't get in the way or disrupt, but he was the leader of the autobots, he was the main target in every battle, the one everyone looked up to for answers and help and all that crap that he didn't really care about, but now he had to, and caring about all of that while trying to maintain a relationship seemed more weight than worth.

He surprised himself when he recalled the days of being Hot Rod and simply jumping from one short term fling to another, without a care about the other's feelings or even his own, he had just wanted the simple pleasure from it. Back then, the words love and bonded didn't hold any meaning for him, only for older mechs who didn't get around as good as he did. But now the words had so much more impact on him that it almost made him hesitant to even imagine himself in that situation, with another mech, spark bonding for something more than simple pleasure but for something deeper and further down in the layers between the two companions.

He took in a long breath, and transformed, heading back to the base to recharge. Tomorrow would be important, he had to talk to Blurr, and the aggravation in his spark was growing bigger by the breem. He'd leave after his shift to go find a loose femme to shave off the burn of loneliness if he had to.

He drove back to the base and looked across the autobot complex, trying to see if Blurr was anywhere around, but he couldn't spot the messenger so he entered the Alpha barracks, walking down the long hallway to his assigned room and sitting down by his computer terminal, switching on the display and reading the most recent reports.

The proceeding day was just the same as the 45 solar cycles before it, dull, boring and silent. Not one decepticon or quintesson, although there had been a minor power outage in Iacon, but Rodimus had dispatched Perceptor, and the problem was soon solved.

The shift bell rang and Rodimus retired to his room, exhausted from answering calls from distraught citizens from Iacon who demanded their power be returned or they'd file a complaint. Another fantastic day as autobot leader. As he sifted through reports, he heard quick footsteps running up and down the hallway, past his door and to a room a few doors down. He poked his head out, nearly having it knocked off by Blurr, who was running back and forth from the beginning of the hallway to his new room, carrying metal cases of all shapes and sizes back and forth. Rodimus recognized them as the document carriers that were often used to protect precious cargo from one destination from another. Blurr must've put his assigned cargo inside of them before running off to deliver the parcels. Was that all Blurr had to move into his room? Rodimus hoped not.

"Slow it down Blurr," Rodimus said, trying to mask his nervousness was he walked out into the hallway, Blurr skidded to a halt in front of him, the last of the document carriers in his arms, he looked as nervous as Rodimus felt. "Nearly uh...took my head off back there."

Silence. Might as well cut the small talk out of it, Rodimus always was a blunt bot, beating around the bush never got him anywhere.

"Blurr we need to talk about yesterday." he said, trying not to rush the words.

"Well I don't see what there is to talk about, I mean, maybe you do, but I don't, because everything is perfectly fine, no decepticons, no quintessons, no nothing that wants to kill, maim, destroy, melt down, or eat us!" Blurr replied. "Yesterday was yesterday, seems like a waste of time to me to remember, think, or recall it."

"Blurr you know exactly what I'm talking about." Rodimus replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "Now would you rather discuss this in private or in the middle of the hallway?"

Blurr's gaze bolted around to the hallway, where Kup and Ultra Magnus were standing. The two quickly pretended not to notice Rodimus and Blurr and jumped into a random conversation, both of them talking about something different. Rodimus looked back at Blurr, the blue mech's face was the definition of embarrassment. Rodimus moved aside, allowing Blurr into his room.

Standard issue autobot rooms weren't anything special, even if you were the commander of the entire race. Rodimus' room consisted of a computer terminal on one side, one shelf that slid into the wall that had energon rations neatly organized inside, and then his berth which was basically a large square of metal that protruded from the back left corner of the room.

The door slid silently shut behind Rodimus as he followed Blurr.

"Blurr, when we were talking yesterday, I uh, I wasn't rejecting or disapproving of anything that you said, I didn't mean to insult you or um, embarrass you in any way. I was just...waiting for you to continue."

"Oh I can't tell you how glad I am, Rodimus, I mean, positively overjoyed because you know I thought that I had said something wrong or done something wrong or acted in the wrong way because you never know because sometimes you know, I just start thinking about stuff so fast that it's like vroom, zip, pshow, thoughts flying through my processor and it's hard to keep it all straight. And even then you know, sometimes I just-"

"Blurr, what did you mean, when you said that...you knew me." Rodimus interrupted, his tone wasn't cold or precise, just curious.

Blurr opened his mouth to talk but only after a few seconds of thought did he finally answer, "Well, uh, you see, I was just saying that well, because you know, how you said, uh, that there isn't anyone to get to know anymore because we were always so busy with decepticon or quintessons, and I just thought, you know that..." he took in a long sigh through his vents, pushing the hot air slowly. His speech slowed down, now only sounding like a normal mech who was trying to slightly rush a conversation, "...well you know me."

"Yes, I do know you Blurr and I'm glad every solar-cycle that I do." Rodimus said, "I'm glad that I know all of you, Ultra Magnus, Arcee, Kup, Springer, even Wheelie. You all mean a lot to me, if it were just me then there wouldn't be a Cybertron anymore let alone the facilities and allies we have now, all of these things are something that I could've never earned without all of the autobots, including you."

Blurr's eyes dimmed and he frowned, that's not what he had meant but apparently Rodimus had taken it as so. He made his way to leave but Rodimus stopped him.

"You look disappointed Blurr, what did I say?" he asked, hoping to get something out of the hover car that he himself didn't have the courage to confess.

Blurr looked up at Rodimus. This was becoming increasingly difficult, and Rodimus wasn't helping.

"I just..." Blurr's speech suddenly sped up, "I just you know, thought that since we spent more time together racing and stuff like that, that I'd be more important, but not like, more important that Ultra Magnus or Springer or Kup or Arcee or Wheelie or Daniel or Perceptor or Metroplex because I'm not, I was just saying that I wanted to mean something to someone but I'm not feeling self pity, no, no no no no no no! It's not like that, not like that at all, I was just saying that you know, sometimes when someone spends more time with someone else then they start to be like, friends and I don't know how you talk with the other autobots or how close you are to the other autobots I was just saying that I considered us to be closer than the other autobots since we spend the most time together, and it's not so lonely anymore." he took in a long siphon of air, looking at Rodimus with optics widened in nervous anticipation.

"I feel the same way." Rodimus said, approaching Blurr.

"Oh, well that's gre-"

The first thing that ran through Rodimus' mind when he pulled Blurr to him was that the other was, well, short. He had to literally lift Blurr a few inches off the ground to kiss him, and even then Blurr made it hard with the initial squirming he did. Rodimus suddenly thought he had made a terrible mistake, and was ready to set Blurr down as the smaller mech moved in his arms, but then suddenly relaxed when he realized that Blurr was just trying to get his arms around Rodimus' shoulders. Rodimus barely noticed the loud clanging when Blurr dropped his document carriers onto the floor, leaving them to roll around for a few seconds before resting still.

Blurr was a clumsy kisser, but he had never had one before so Rodimus had to give him some credit for the effort he put into it. The broke the kiss, Blurr staring at him with the widest optics Rodimus had ever seen. The blue mech looked stunned and his mouth stayed small and shut. Rodimus had his share of sudden relationships and decided to ask Blurr the one question that had been on his own mind, and hopefully on the other's as well.

"Blurr, are you sure you-"

But Rodimus couldn't finish his sentence, as Blurr now started another fumbling kiss back at him. That was a yes in Rodimus' book, so he began to make his way towards the recharge berth, setting Blurr down on it and laying beside the smaller mech. Blurr was shivering, nervous and excited at the same time, a surge of unknown feelings washing over him like a wave. It wasn't lust that motivated him, it was a desire to abandon his loneliness that had haunted him since his activation.

Rodimus' intentions were one in the same, but he wanted Blurr to at least enjoy the feelings that came with bonding. He gently ran a hand down Blurr's right leg, his other holding the other mech closer. Blurr broke the kiss again, and Rodimus heard a small whimper when his wandering hand reached the inside of Blurr's thigh.

Rodimus assumed that Blurr would've wanted to go fast, but in fact it was just the opposite, the messenger was almost completely still except for the powerful shivers than ran up and down when Rodimus touched him. He let Rodimus explore and search for the certain parts of his body that got the most response, and no surprise to either of them that it was the insides of Blurr's legs.

Powerful energy washed off of both of them, making it seem like an oven in the room. Rodimus didn't need any touches or motivation, the feeling of another needy spark so close was already sending him into a quick overheated state. Blurr let out a slow, low toned moan when Rodimus ran his hand down the mech's back, causing him to arch up, tiny bits of blue energy popping off of his chest. This finally triggered Rodimus' spark chamber to open, the matrix moving into the left panel that slipped off to the side. Rodimus' spark wasn't anything special, it never had been as Hot Rod, and even though he had the matrix, it didn't make it shine any brighter or look any better. The light still managed to fill up the room, but Rodimus inwardly thought to himself that it was nothing compared to that of other autobots.

Blurr looked at him, biting his lower lip nervously with his optics gone dim, before a clicking sound was heard dully under his chest plate, and it slid in an intricate display into four separate pieces, until a powerful light came to mix with Rodimus'. There wasn't anything exceptional about Blurr's spark either, it was bright, and something about it set it apart from Rodimus' own, probably the fact that he had never been bonded before. Rodimus gave Blurr a quiet look as the light from the two sparks bounced of his face, questioning his own motives for this as well as Blurr's decision to bond with him, of all the mechs on the base. Neither of them were smiling, Rodimus was almost frowning, but there wasn't a hint of regret in Blurr's dim stare, and Rodimus pulled him closer, their two sparks pulsing brighter and brighter until they joined.

Euphoria was the only word that Rodimus could describe as he bonded with Blurr. He offlined his optics and pulled Blurr closer into a tight embrace as memories and feelings invaded his processor. The first thing he felt was joy, the same kind of wide eyed, tingling joy he got from racing beside Blurr as they tore down the streets, almost like flight. It escalated, past what Rodimus remembered feeling and into something completely new, like a glimpse of the world from an incredible speed, everything going by so fast that he could barely remember what was there a few seconds ago, but he didn't care to remember. Everyone else was slower than him, everyone was clumsier than him, no one was faster than him, no one was as proud when they ran or would leap up into the air, because he was the best, hands down, and he knew it. It wasn't arrogance either, it was simple facts that made Rodimus' spark shine a little brighter as he let the feelings overwhelm him.

Then there was sorrow, loneliness that took hold slowly among the happiness. The loneliness was dull, but it grew like a disease upon whatever good feelings that were possible. It was like a gray veil over a diamond, while the magnificence was still visible, it was painfully obvious that it would never be the same.

Then the two combined, the joy and sorrow to form the very essence of it's being, and pushed Rodimus away. It was like a daydream, Rodimus could feel himself looking at this mixture of feelings from a distance, a haze between him and the actuality of it all. Every ounce of joy covered in a wash of dull sadness and despair, and soon the two were the same.

When the sparks eventually began to pull apart, Rodimus felt himself wanting to know more. He wanted to spread apart the veil that separated the daydream from the reality that Blurr had somewhere far hidden, but the other would not let him, and the two sparks pulled apart and the chest pieces snapped back shut, the matrix being put back into it's rightful spot and the powerful glow disappearing from the room.

Blurr was heaving, his vents, fans and coolant systems working overtime after his first bonding. His optics were dim, almost completely offlined as he let Rodimus pull him into a tighter embrace, which he hadn't thought possible. Rodimus was tired also, but he had made a habit of doing bondings just for the fun of it and ignoring the spark-to-spark portion, seeing it as unnecessary and boring. Blurr buried his face in Rodimus' neck, optics flickering brightly for a few seconds before going completely offline as he entered recharge.

Rodimus sent a small signal to the computer terminal in his room, the lights going out and the door locking, the latter something his autobot peers considered strange. Ultra Magnus had the private codes to get in and if it was really an emergency it wouldn't matter how he found Rodimus.

He gazed blankly at the wall across from him, absentmindedly stroking Blurr's back to somehow sooth the other, even though he was in recharge. He had kissed Blurr and Blurr had responded, he pondered, it wasn't lust, the need to know the other's deepest emotions or even out of camaraderie. Something had compelled Rodimus to simply get as close to Blurr as possible, that contact he finally felt that wasn't for pleasure or enjoyment, but knowing for once without a doubt that he wasn't alone. He had the other autobots, no doubt about it, but none of them new him beyond him once being Hot Rod and now being their leader, and Blurr was the first to do that. And he highly doubted anyone at all knew the layers to the blue messenger that were like curtains he had to keep pushing away to get to the source. He felt like he first had when he had gotten to know Blurr, he had only cracked the surface.

He smiled, and it felt very weird so he quit soon after he started. But he was happy, something that didn't occur every day. There was something to fill that gap that had been there, and it was only the beginning.

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I apologize for my bonding scene have a distinct lack of smut, I've just never found myself good at writing it.


	5. Bedside Manner

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything associated with it.

**Title**: Bedside Manner  
**Rating**: T  
**Universe**: G1  
**Pairing**: Cyclonus/Galvatron  
**Word Count**: 1022

It's been..years since I've added anything to this, and to whomever reads this – my apologies! College is constantly keeping me busy and last summer I had to be somewhere full time, but I finally have a free summer!

My writing style might have changed over the years, and I'm thinking about revising the previous chapters however, I'll probably leave them as is. Also I'm going to try and keep the chapters shorter.

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Cyclonus rested against the wall in silence, his arms crossed as he glowered at Hook. The Decepticon's excuse for a medic was operating on Galvatron's legs, removing the burnt husks of metal and circuitry that were once the foundation of fearless leader's propulsion system. Galvatron was in stasis lock, eyes dim and black as he laid still on the repair berth.

"How long will he be in stasis?" Cyclonus asked as Hook dropped four more dead flight cylinders on to the adjacent surgical table.

"Hard to say." was Hook's callous reply, his distaste for Cyclonus dripping in every word. "I've put him on an Energon drip, but we barely have enough for that. You know we're running low!"

"I'll find Energon to replace it – do what you need to do, Decepticon. I will worry about the logistics and repercussions." The Jet snapped, and Hook huffed, nodding.

Cyclonus stood up straight, walking over to the berth where Galvatron lay and turned to Hook.

"Leave us."

The constructicon did so gladly, the door hissing shut behind him. Swindle had been their previous medic, but he had pulled one of Galvatron's servo joins too painfully during an operation and three shots later had given up the job. The current term of 'medic' was now more accurately anyone brave enough to tinker with Galvatron's insides with minimal expertise.

The Decepticons were in a sad state, and it shamed Cyclonus that he noted the irony of having a sliding door in a dome that had its top blown off. Any Decepticon could simply fly in, yet they still chose the mediocrity of walking through the door. The Jet transformer looked up at the stars as he set a hand on the medical berth, gazing warily upwards in to space. Galvatron, Scourge and himself weren't true Decepticons, they weren't like the others. They were Unicron's children; progeny of the world eater himself and images created from his mind. Why did they have to suffer the company of the common Decepticons – because of a common hatred?

Cyclonus hung his head in anger, the allure of the stars was not for him. Nor for Scourge or mighty Galvatron. Even though they were no longer trueDecepticons, they were still subject to Unicron's orders and some partial will from their former lives. Their creator's death meant nothing, his want for the destruction of the Autobots and the Matrix was firm and adamant in their processors and sparks no matter what other temptations of freedom or proclivities were present.

The Jet was not one to pity himself or his own situation, but now and then he'd allow himself an internal period of selfish mourning. No one else was around, and damn the Allspark if Cyclonus wasn't allowed to mope for a few minutes while Galvatron was under.

The chilling sound of an entire system starting back up made Cyclonus move away from the berth quickly, turning around and standing ramrod straight. Galvatron mumbled incoherently, trying to sit up but Cyclonus was quickly at his side, hands on his shoulders.

"Calm yourself, mighty Galvatron." He said - voice raspy and low as he eased Galvatron back down on to the berth. He knew the other mech hated being immobilized, and hated repairs even more - but this particular situation didn't have room for compromising. "Hook is doing everything he can to improve your current condition…"

Galvatron looked at him, eyes narrowing in anticipation for Cyclonus to finish his sentence.

"…however milord, because of the unique properties of your lost propulsion system it will…take some time."

The following groan that came from Galvatron would normally have been an angry scream followed by several shots from his cannon, but the mech simply didn't have the energy to be angry. Cyclonus knew this, and for once in his relatively short time being alive – decided to take advantage of that fact for his own personal gain. But personal gain for Cyclonus was more along the lines of being closer to Galvatron than anyone else rather than take Galvatron's power.

He gently put his hand on Galvatron's shoulder, his superior looking up at him with a somber expression of exhaustion. The inability to have a tantrum sent Galvatron down a separate path of morbid depression – at least in private.

"I will take care of everything in your stead, Lord Galvatron – and when you are recovered the Decepticons will be ready to receive their rightful leader once again."

Galvatron's optics flickered for a moment before he inclined his head in a long slow nod that only lasted a few seconds before he rolled to his side, a position more comfortable because of his anatomy and began to voluntarily enter stasis.

Cyclonus removed his hand from Galvatron's shoulder, letting it fall back to his side. He digested what had just happened as he looked down at his leader's prone form. It warmed his spark to know that Galvatron trusted him – _him_ – to look after the Decepticons in his stead. In the fiercest battles and the quietest of nights, Cyclonus would hold that with him in silence and be at peace.

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Review if you please!


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